"Who Is My Neighbour?" Is the Wrong Question ----- PENT 8C-2016

It has been quite a week with racially motivated gun violence in Minnesota, Louisiana, Texas.

A week where the words of today’s Gospel pierce the fabric of our lives. Despite having heard this Gospel and knowing it well enough we could tell the story to someone else, it is heard differently today.  It is applicable!

Society’s systemic racism slapped our faces this week, and is addressed by the lawyers question this morning, “who is my neighbour?”  Although the shootings were in the United States, and we might try to justify “our society” or institutions, as not as bad --- systemic racism is very much alive in Canada as it is around the world.

When I hear news after news report where anything but neighbourliness is articulated, I get nervous, angry, depressed; shaking my head and wondering where is this leading us; when I see videos of 13 yr olds able to buy guns while refused lottery scratch cards – darkness settles; when prospective world leaders spout hate or advocate the breaking of relationships – darkness settles; when I consider the 65.3 million refugees needing to find a place to live – darkness settles in; when I hear my community at Resurrection church speak negatively of Muslims, those needing social assistance, referring to foreigners, denigrating First Nation’s people, street people, or Halifax’s African Canadian community – attributing the ills of current society on them- darkness settles in.

Darkness settling in brings to mind the fictitious city of Gotham. Perhaps you have seen this show on TV or read the comics years ago. Gotham is the place where a young Master Bruce is growing up; after experiencing the murder of his parents, he seeks justice. This is the story of Bruce Wayne’s evolution to becoming Batman.   Gotham is a city that is dark.  It is as if a black dust has covered the buildings, a grime is stuck to the streets. The sky looks grey, the river cold.  People are sad and isolate from each other; mental illness is on the rise, and the asylum (part prison, part treatment centre, part experimental lab) holds inmates and takes crazy to a monster level. Fear is everywhere, as mobs control the happenings within the city. The police are corrupt and politicians care only about themselves. The landscape, the city, the institutions, and the people have been smothered. There is no hope.  The thick fog of hopelessness is stifling. 

Helmut Thielicke, post-WWII pastor and preacher in Hamburg, Germany, spoke to a world that had been turned upside down and inside out. Post-war reality slapped him, and everyone, in the face weekly: the dance of peoples (of neighbours or not neighbours) --- those who found jobs, those who had lost their homes, the disenfranchised and needing social assistance, the displaced, varying politics, degrees of guilt, a wall built to separate. What could be seen as the ideal question in the chaos of post-war reality, “Who is my neighbour?” is not the question that Thielicke preached on.

Rather, to his society – Lutheran people gathering to find hope for survival – he chooses in one of his sermons on the parable of the Good Samaritan to spend time unpacking not the parable, but, on the lawyer who asked the question. Sure of himself the lawyer enters into an encounter with Jesus, coming to put Jesus to the test.  The lawyer, thinking, he had a question that would justify the way he was living life (we all like to justify our actions or inactions), soon finds out that he begins with the wrong question, “Who is my neighbour?”

 Jesus quickly halts the question, when in telling the parable, the story reverses the question, and asks, “to whom am I neighbour?”  Thielicke preached that the question, “who is my neighbour?” is the very question the devil wants people to ask because in asking it, “the neighbour” becomes an intellectual exercise and action doesn’t happen.  The parable ends --- after having tackled the prejudices of that day --- stressing action: “go and do!”

In the thick fog of hopelessness, in Gotham, there remains a remnant of possibility for a brighter future—there are a few with hearts focused on doing good. On seeking justice. On doing what is right.  At times their morals are tested; at times they act other than their ethics have dictated, to serve the greater good in the long run.  The characters – a cop, a boy, a butler- are actively working to clean up the city.  It means befriending the crazy, the ex-wife, the mob leaders, the dregs of society, the mayor, the girl who lives on the street.  The actions taken by the cop, the boy, the butler cross all lines.  If they stopped to ask “who is my neighbour?” “who can I trust?” the evil would win and nothing would be done.  Better to act and fail, than not to have acted at all.

There is a little bit of the lawyer in all of us.

We ask the question, “Who is my neighbour?” We ask, every time we talk about another group of people as “them” or “they” or “those” people.  We ask, every time we look away, turning our eyes as if we do not see the hurt in those around us.  We ask, every time we justify ourselves by saying we have done enough or given enough, or excuse ourselves from action for any reason.  We ask, with each derogatory comment, joke, racial slur or thought about someone else’s character.

There is a little bit of the lawyer in all of us.

When we hear the reversal, “to whom am I neighbour?” There is a sinking of heart as the realization is articulated that although we can talk about being neighbour, we fail at the application. 

Gotham, in years to come, when Bruce Wayne becomes Batman, the world seems to have a saviour.  A light is shone in the skies as a beacon of hope. To get to this point the TV series explores what was needed to grow a super hero.: Batman didn’t just happen.  There was a small group of individuals who formed community, at times working together and supporting each other.  They were a group who chose not looked away from the problems of society and chose to neighbour one person at a time.

In the movie, Martian, the main character played by Matt Daimon, is left on Mars as the rest of the space team left the planet thinking him dead. A deadly storm had come along and the danger made the team leave, Matt had been hurt in the process.  He wakes up, alone.  It could have been hopeless- running out of water, food, air – on a planet that had none of these things; he could freeze to death; there was no chance of a returning space craft for years; no way to communicate immediately.  In his reflection of the event, what kept him alive, what produced hope – was, although knowing the big picture and the desperation of the situation, was to focus on solving one problem at a time; an immediate problem, then the next, the next, and so on.

This is what it is to live the reversal of the lawyer’s question, to live out “to whom am I neighbour?”  It is about, “go and do likewise,” be a neighbour to the first person you meet, the second, the third, and so on.  One at a time.  This is hope.

C.S. Lewis provides a great illustration: “It is the difference between paint, which is merely laid on the surface and dye or stain which seeps right through.”  Paint is what the lawyer wanted to use.  He applied the law in ways he saw fit, ways that required the least effort, and in a way to make his life neat and tidy. He looked put together and shiny.  He fulfilled the law and was able to live with the amenities and status he desired.  Jesus asks that the law be applied like stain, seeping right through. This means change and getting messy.  It means the law is a love and hope that comes from the inside out; a neighbourliness that is conditioned by constant eye-control --- looking for eye-contact in places where darkness has seeped in.

Lewis also wrote: “It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present.  And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.”

There is a little bit of the lawyer in us all.

The law sounds easy.  The story of the parable of the Good Samaritan sounds easy ---

until it slaps us on the face ---- “TO WHOM” --- are you a neighbour? Not who is your neighbour 

or who treats you as a neighbour, or sees you as a neighbour? ---TO WHOM are you are neighbour?

This isn’t an in your head question, it is an action, “Go and do likewise, “ Jesus commands.

Being nice, being good – is being an egg. If we remain but nice and good, we will go bad.  We are to “go and do,” this is hatching --- so that flight is possible.  It is taking on darkness, entering the dark corners and facing one person at a time, until the big problems of the world have the black soot washed off enough for the hope, held by a remnant -us- to be passed on.

My prayer is that in this place your hearts are stained with grace, that you are changed so that you never ask again, “who is my neighbour?” My hope is that you hatch so that flight is possible – no longer being nice and good – rather, “going and doing” because that is who you are, with bold words displayed in your sight “TO WHOM.” This is the purpose of your life.

…God may this come true….to Whom be given glory and honour forever and ever. Amen.

MOB - Pent 5C

I am being stalked!

Seriously all week the Gospel reading has been chasing me, jumping out from behind bushes, and peeking through half drawn curtains.  It seems everywhere I go   - the situation or conversation relates to the story of Jesus casting demons from the mad-man in the Trans-Jordanian wilderness.

On Tues night, I attended the Gambler’s Anonymous group, that meets in the church hall.  The community was celebrating a 24^th birthday – 24 years gambling free; a milestone that was honoured by many telling the birthday celebrant how much they had helped their own journey to living life.  Other stories shared were current struggles, wrapped up in demons from the past, and hard circumstances needing to be faced in the days to come. One attendee was quiet, until near the end. Getting up the courage they shared that it was their first meeting --- having been brought by a friend --- and cried out, that there was nothing but darkness (an abyss), and that the celebration of the birthday and the stories of others were enough to give them the possibility of perhaps believing there might be a hope that there is hope. 

In a long time, this is the darkest place I have witnessed someone being in.  I recalled the demons speaking to Jesus, They begged him not to order them to go back into the abyss.  The demons, however, had pretty much taken the mad-man to beyond the edge, and this person from the meeting was well into the abyss; which I describe as a place where one has no hope; they are no longer themselves.

The translation from which we read the story of the man whom Jesus heals, the demons refer to themselves as Legion.  A Legion, is not the Legion we know today as a place for veterans to gather – to share each others pain, hidden inexplicable memories- demons. Rather a legion describes a large army, 5000 strong, designed to attack in waves – if you have watched any recent epic film you know what I mean:  a wave of cavalry, a wave of archers, a wave of foot soldiers, then giants, or catapults… 

I prefer the language used in the Message translation – which for some reason was the translation Lutheran clergy read the text from when we gathered on Thurs.  The text reads, Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” “Mob. My name is Mob,” he said because many demons afflicted him.

Mob, m-o-b.  This word resonates. Flash mobs; mobs rampaging after sporting events; protests turned into violent mobs; a school yard fight turning into dozens egging on the fight and joining in; a mob --- an unruly group of people who act in destructive ways with a mentality that has a life of its own, often producing actions that individuals would not commit of their own accord. 

I had coffee with a friend this week. This friend spoke with me about this great Bible translation that seemed to bring the Word into real life like none other – the Message – so I gave an example I had heard the day before:  Legion to Mob.  The friend shared a disturbing story, when he lived in another part of the world and had a life as a bus driver --- he found himself stuck on the bus, alone, on an empty street and coming over a hill, came to a police barricade, with no choice but to turn left, he turned tucking in just past the police line and was halted.  There was an approaching mob that was being corralled away from the main street of the city and being pushed down the road where my friend’s bus sat.  The police had my friend take cover in the bus  - the mob chose to hit the bus; 1000s of people, wave after wave, took their angst out on the bus; my friend did a lot of praying and was sure he was going to die. The riot squad eventually moved the mob enough with protective shields to get my friend off before the bus was flipped or set on fire. It was the longest 5 mins of my friend’s life.  Mob.

We might not have such a fantastic mob story, but, we understand mob. 

We’ve been in crowds, at concerts, and sporting events and have felt the pushing at the end of the night when everyone is trying to leave quickly; we’ve been at dances were the dance floor gets over full and people push in on each other; we’ve been in circumstances where a crowd gets excited or agitated, but, we more often experience Mob in a more personal way.

Mob gets to us: waves of guilt pile up and we feel undeserving of coming back to the church community; waves of not feeling well to a diagnosis of inoperable cancer; waves of anxiety or depression to an end of self-harming; waves of life circumstances numbed by substance and led to addiction; waves of memory lapse and cognitive distress on the way to Alzheimer’s; waves of doubt and fear as one is in the last stretch before death ---- this week these were the places where Mob burst into my world.

Throughout our lives we have moments of getting pretty close to being on the edge of the abyss:

overwhelmed, at the end of one’s rope, and sometimes the bottom falls out.  The Gospel does not leave the mad-man in the abyss, or us, close to the edge.   The Gospel story ends with:

The man from whom the demons had gone begged that he might be with him [Jesus]; but Jesus sent him away, saying, “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.” So he went a

way, proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.

As the Gospel continued to stalk me, I figured it out ----

The conclusion to the story is important!  For the man-made-whole the conclusion has become his vocation and purpose in life.  It is also the direction for those of us who have been under the control of Mob.  We are to return home and declare how much God has done for us.

When there are those who have recognized and experienced Jesus in the moment of utter darkness -- when on the edge of the abyss – and in that moment where Jesus casts out the demons; these people have been given a gift of hope and life. And the people having experienced Jesus go and share their story of what God has done, spread hope and peace to others. In doing so they become the Word that pushes the demons back and puts an end to Mob having a debilitating hold on a person.

That’s what happened at the Gambler’s Anonymous meeting, those who lived through darkness, had faced Mob, shared their stories.  In the honesty of the story, the admission of continued struggle, and the resource of the community, Mob lost its power over the person, for at least this moment, this wave.  Hope was given as a gift.  This hope grew in community.

That’s also what happened over the years in our Legions, those who had witnessed the darkness of war, had faced Mob, had a place to go and share their stories, a common horror that didn’t even need to be articulated.  Mob lost its power over individuals, for at least a moment, in the awareness that no one was alone – a community held hope as a whole that allowed for life to continue on.

My experiences this week had me sharing stories with those facing Mob, stories of others whom I had journeyed through similar circumstances with.  I shared stories that told of hope and healing in all the circumstances of life – although perhaps not in the way the hearer might have anticipated.  One person kept asking me, well how do you know? I know that all will be well, that God holds us because I have journeyed with people through some very dangerous and scary places.  And in the end I have been with those who pass from here to the next world – with a joy glowing on their face, an indescribable peace in the room, a gentle slipping between this world and the next obvious that someone they knew had come to take them on the next part of their journey.

Although in this Gospel we do not get an insight into the disciple’s experience of the event, we are told later in the Gospel, when after Jesus’ death they are on the edge of the abyss – when everything in their lives comes crashing down around them- when Mob is at the door; the disciples hole themselves up in a house; together.  For 50 days they wait in Jerusalem until the day of Pentecost, and when the Holy Spirit comes they go off preaching and teaching – not alone but in pairs, forming communities and sharing all that Jesus had done for them and for those whom Jesus met.

Because of community I had stories to share, my own and those of others, with those facing Mob.  The Word, Jesus was present in the presentation of Good News and hope was made possible.

What you hear here, see here, and experience in life --- the struggles you struggle through and make it through --- are a gift of hope for those currently stuck in the abyss.  Please share your stories, as insignificant as you may think they are.  Simply to know someone else has struggled in the same way is reassuring that one is not alone.

Save a life, cast out a demon, simply by enacting Jesus’ words:

Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.